


walk all over you

by apostolosian (mercutioes)



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Boot Worship, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, hadrian gets stepped on a lot is what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 06:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11526018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercutioes/pseuds/apostolosian
Summary: ephrim gets some new boots. hadrian has a small crisis.





	walk all over you

**Author's Note:**

> this was GOING to be a 300 word drabble and instead it became this........... shoutout to the discord for being enablers

Hadrian doesn’t really register the difference until he goes to hand Ephrim something and doesn’t have to tilt his head down to look him in the eyes.  His movements stutter for a moment, taken aback by the fact that Ephrim is close to eye level.

He shakes it off but as Ephrim walks away, Hadrian catches sight of his high, high heels attached to shiny black leather boots that hug Ephrim’s calves like they’re painted on.  He can’t contain a soft gasp at the sight of them, and Ephrim pauses, looks over his shoulder.

“Something the matter, Hadrian?”

“Not at all!”  He cringes internally at the tremble in his voice.

Ephrim gives him a considering look before sweeping his cloak over his shoulders and striding away, somehow managing to stay graceful and steady even on heels that high.

All throughout the day, Hadrian can’t stop stealing glances at the boots, their wicked sharpness sparking tantalizing images in his head.  He hopes if he’s lucky enough, Ephrim won’t notice how his face flushes, or at least that he won’t make the connection between Hadrian’s blush and his boots.

Hadrian’s never been a lucky man.

And so that night when Hadrian retires to his tent he finds Ephrim waiting for him, perched regally on a crate with his long, long legs crossed one over the other, lantern light glinting off the smooth leather.  Hadrian stops dead in the tent’s entrance, letting the flap fall closed behind him, unable to look away from the shiny, shiny toes of Ephrim’s boots.

Ephrim doesn’t greet him or explain himself, just points to the ground at his feet and says, “kneel.”

Hadrian kneels.

He casts his eyes to the floor, an unconscious act of deference.  He almost jumps when Ephrim hooks the toe of one boot under his chin, tilting Hadrian’s head up to look at him fully.  Ephrim’s face is indifferent, almost bored, and Hadrian feels hot sweat break out all over his body.

He holds as still as he can while Ephrim studies his face, his flush spreading down his neck.  Ephrim slowly, slowly drags his boot down Hadrian’s throat, down his chest and stomach to land on his thigh, sharp heel digging into the muscle of it.  Hadrian can’t help but gasp, fists clenching where they hang by his sides.  Ephrim’s eyes flash and he brings his boot up to tap at Hadrian’s cheek, looking expectantly at him.

“My prince?” he rasps.  A bead of sweat rolls down the back of his neck.

“You know what to do, Hadrian.”  Ephrim nudges the corner of Hadrian’s mouth with his toe.   The scent of leather fills Hadrian’s nose, rich and tangy.  He swallows.

Hadrian tilts his head and kisses the top of Ephrim’s boot.  Ephrim’s mouth quirks up, the first sign of interest since they started.  Hadrian’s mouth descends again and again, kissing every inch of the top and licking up the seam of it, spit slicking the smooth leather.  The taste is strange on Hadrian’s tongue but it makes his cock swell in his pants all the same.

“Good,” breathes Ephrim.  He removes his foot from Hadrian’s lips and drags the toe across his chest, rubbing roughly over one nipple and then the other.  The ridged texture of the sole makes Hadrian gasp sharply, screwing his eyes shut and chewing at his lip.

And then the boot on his chest _pushes_ and Hadrian, caught off-guard, goes toppling back, fall cushioned at least a little by the bedroll already spread out on the floor.  It doesn’t stop him from yelping loudly, though.

He moves to sit up but Ephrim’s boot lands on his chest hard and pins him to the floor, the heel digging into his sternum painfully.  Sparks radiate throughout his body from that focal point and Hadrian arches up, closing his eyes and biting his lip to keep his moan quiet.

“Look at me,” comes the quiet order from above him, and Hadrian does, the thought of disobeying not crossing his mind for an instant.  Ephrim’s eyes are _burning_ somehow, mesmerizing and commanding.  Hadrian couldn’t look away if he tried.

Ephrim moves his foot from Hadrian’s sternum to the middle of his chest, to his stomach, to the vee of his hips.  Each time, he digs in the heel, leaving small, dark bruises in a line down Hadrian’s body.  Hadrian’s breathing gets heavier and faster with each step but his hands never leave his sides and his eyes never leave Ephrim’s.  Hadrian’s cock is painfully hard, pressing up against the cotton of the pants he wears to sleep, the head just peeking out from the waistband.  Ephrim nudges it with a toe and Hadrian gasps, desperation apparent in his breath.

“Ask me to step on you.”

Hadrian’s brain shorts out for a moment before he responds.

“Please,” he gasps.

“Please, _what_.”  Ephrim digs his heel into Hadrian’s hip and Hadrian keens at the pain.

“Please, my prince,” manages Hadrian, fists clenching hard enough for his nails to dig into his own palms.  “Step on me, _please_.”  Ephrim laughs – cold, sharp, mockery practically dripping from it.

“You’re disgusting,” he spits.

His boot presses down on Hadrian’s cock and Hadrian barely keeps himself from shouting, biting his own shoulder to muffle his yell.  It’s pain and pressure and _so good_ he wants to cry.  He so desperately needs to move his hips but he fears Ephrim’s response if he does so before he’s been given permission.  So he holds himself still save for his trembling, waiting for Ephrim’s next order.

Ephrim smirks, gazing down at Hadrian with contempt writ across his fine, regal features.

“Go on, then,” he says, grinding his toe down onto Hadrian’s cock.  “Rub off on my boot like the dog you are.”

It’s all Hadrian needs.  He grips the bedroll below him in fistfuls and rolls his hips up against Ephrim’s sole, rough friction making him cry out.  He’s closer than he thought, tears forming in his eyes and Ephrim’s words setting a fire in his stomach.  He licks at his upper lip where sweat has gathered, salty and bitter.  Ephrim barks a short laugh.

“Are you going to come just from this?”

Hadrian doesn’t answer, caught up in the overwhelming pressure on his cock.  He whimpers when the boot is suddenly gone, and Ephrim kicks him in the ribs hard enough to bruise.

“I asked you a question, Hadrian.”

“Yes, yes,” he gasps, eyes wide.  “Fuck, please, just let me…”

Ephrim puts his boot back on Hadrian’s cock and makes a low noise of contempt as he rolls his foot, pre-come dripping onto Hadrian’s stomach.

“Imagine what Samothes would say if he could see you now,” spits Ephrim, pressing sharp on the head of Hadrian’s cock.  The searing pain and pleasure of it punches the air out of his lungs in a rush.  “Imagine what he would say if he could see his sword begging for my boot on his cock.”

And something about Ephrim’s words and his burning eyes and the mocking contempt in his voice sends Hadrian careening over the edge, long white ropes splattering over Hadrian’s stomach and chest as he shouts loud enough for the whole camp to hear.

Ephrim makes a disgusted noise and Hadrian opens his eyes to see that some of his come has soiled the perfect shine of Ephrim’s boot.  Ephrim plants his foot next to Hadrian’s head, fire in his eyes.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Ephrim says, nudging Hadrian’s cheek and smearing come on his high cheekbone.  Hadrian’s breath hitches in his throat at the hungry expression on Ephrim’s face.

“You’d better clean me up,” says Ephrim, corner of his mouth hitching up in a cruel smile.  “And make sure to do it right.”  Hadrian’s mouth waters with anticipation – he knows exactly what his prince is demanding of him.

He scrambles to his knees and gets to work.

**Author's Note:**

> these boots are made for walkin'  
> and that's just what they'll do  
> one of these days these boots are gonna  
> walk all over you


End file.
